


For the Man Who Has Everything

by Paian



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Birthday, Character Study, Established Relationship, F/F, M/M, Meta, Porn, Porn Video, Porn Watching, Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-28
Updated: 2008-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:32:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paian/pseuds/Paian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's ridiculously hard to find porn that Jack will like. Daniel finds a way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Man Who Has Everything

Jack wouldn't watch porn that involved guys going at it with each other, and Daniel respected his reasons. That meant that Jack wouldn't watch the kind of mixed-sex threesome porn Daniel liked, although he took an inordinate amount of pleasure in watching Daniel watch it. Straight porn didn't even get a reflex hard-on; he seemed to be inured to it. But one night in a hotel room when Daniel was too tired to work but couldn't sleep, Daniel clicked over to porn-per-view because it was there, and midway through a steamy if horrendously scored encounter between two women who were going to do themselves serious injury if they didn't get out of the stiletto heels, he became aware that Jack was no longer sleeping and that the package nestled against his thigh was going very, very hard.

Jack didn't say anything, so he didn't either. He kept watching, and Jack's face didn't lift from between Daniel's neck and the pillow, so apparently what Jack did was keep listening. Daniel got hard too after a while, but mostly because Jack was getting so rigidly hard against his leg, and he was paying a lot more attention to Jack than to the screen, aroused and fascinated by Jack's response. When both women started to make dramatic orgasming sounds at the same time, Jack's heartbeat sped up appreciably against Daniel's ribs -- but just after the apparent climax, the woman who'd been doing the sucking and self-fingering pulled back with a barely audible _mmmf_, and Daniel could feel Jack click off like a switch. He didn't go instantly soft the way he had a couple of times when Daniel pushed the wrong button early on, but his body had been thrumming, and the thrum just flatlined.

"That's what always happens," Jack said, after a while, into whatever pocket of air he'd found to breathe where his face was buried. "Might as well turn it off, unless you're into it."

Daniel switched off the TV and said, "It was that sound."

"Mm-hm."

"She sounded ... " Daniel played it back in his head a few times, and still didn't have an adjective. "That's the sound someone makes when they get to stop doing something they didn't like doing."

"Mm-hm," Jack said.

"I'd never have noticed that."

Jack shrugged.

"You know there's lesbian porn with women who are real partners in real life."

"Not interested," Jack said.

"It's no fun if they're not putting on a show for you?"

"I do like a show," Jack said, but in _as you know, Professor_ voice, which wasn't an answer.

"They're still doing that. That's the point. At its best they're getting off on the exhibitionism too."

"Still looking at somebody's private thing. That's not my bag."

"But you'd -- "

"I don't get off on that stuff. Let it go."

"OK," Daniel said, meaning _for now, anyway_.

"OK," Jack said, meaning _you're a pain in the ass_, and then lifted his head and ran his fingertips up Daniel's leg. "OK?"

"Yeah," Daniel said, opening up to the gentle touch and turning to the wonderful warm familiarity of Jack, and forgot all about the porn question as he was expertly masturbated, finished by the same hand Jack was bringing himself off with, and sent sweetly into an endorphin-and-oxytocin sleep -- for now, anyway.

After that, Daniel changed up the stuff he watched when they were doing that. Threw some girl-girl-boy flicks into the mix now and then, a scene here and there on the disks he burned. Watched the women, trying to appreciate the nuances of something he'd never had a taste for watching himself. Started doing more targeted research, refining the recommendations requests he dropped into private message boards on the net. Jack, predictably, grumped about being anthroanalyzed. He even retaliated at one point, finally asking a question Daniel had been expecting for years: "So porn supposedly works on men because they identify with the guy, right? So which guy are you identifying with in this stuff, Daniel?" Daniel answered him promptly -- the guy in the middle when he was watching, either one when he daydreamed about doing this with Jack and some anonymous woman -- and reaped the immediate reward of Jack adding finger penetration to the blowjob he liked to provide while watching Daniel watch his threesome porn. But Jack didn't ask him to knock it off with the new stuff, or ask him straight out whose benefit it was really for, and gradually Daniel realized that Jack wasn't just humoring his unsubtle efforts to plumb the depths of Jack's libido -- Jack was maybe kind of waiting for Daniel to find him something he'd enjoy.

Gradually, Daniel figured it out, and it was going to be impossible to find.

Jack liked to be performed for -- he liked to know that the people on the screen knew he was there, were putting on a show for him -- but bad acting turned him off and gay-for-pay turned his stomach; he was preternaturally attuned to flaws in the performance, and he'd catch the subtlest indication that any of the participants was concealing boredom or revulsion. He wasn't interested in any kind of story, never mind the lame scenarios of most commercial porn, but videorealism, such as there was, was out too; he had a deep hatred of surveillance, wouldn't abide anything recorded by a hidden camera, and was indifferent to the documentary format. And he flat refused to watch people making love with people they really loved. But twice Daniel stumbled on clips that not only got Jack hard but kept him hard. The first, where the actors weren't even bothering to try to act but were just concentrating on having sex, kept him hard all the way through and into a reciprocal blowjob from Daniel, and at the end of the second, after ten minutes of the most explicit, deliberate stimulation of arguably more relevant body parts, he was so aroused by the gentle, supportive cupping of an elbow that he dragged his mouth off Daniel's cock and came up to trade handjobs, a first for one of these sessions. Both scenes were particularly well recorded, with good lighting and sound and interesting camera angles, and both scenes featured women who had been in the business for a long time.

For Jack, Daniel realized, the most effective act in a piece of porn was a thoughtlessly considerate touch: one professional taking instinctive, reflexive care of another one. Jack liked to watch professionals work. He understood experienced people doing a job they'd chosen to do; he knew where he stood, then, with respect to what he was watching. And the professionalism that pinged him in porn wasn't the acting work. It was the work of sex itself.

The perfect porn for Jack would be intended for an audience and it would be lit and shot and edited to please that audience, but it wouldn't tell a story or provide a dramatized fantasy, and it wouldn't use actors at all. The perfect porn would show skilled sex workers doing a job they enjoyed and took pride in doing well -- not the job of simulating good sex, but the job of _delivering_ good sex. The perfect porn would be a dual seduction, all the performance art in the filmmaking and all the realism in the content. The perfect porn would feature genuine arousal and genuine climaxes, it would do it without getting personal -- and if there were cracks in the armor of professional competence and anything showed through, it would be kindness.

There was only one way for Daniel to be sure that the criteria were met.

It was a bit tricky to set up and coordinate, and he had to go out of town twice and erase a lot of records from his cell phone's memory and furnish some encryption tools that were powerful enough to make electronic transmission safe enough for the other parties to agree to but not so sophisticated that they'd raise questions in the unlikely event that someone knowledgeable enough to raise those questions somehow got involved.

Jack came home while he was hooking his laptop up to the bedroom TV set. "You found one so hot you don't even want to leave a _disk_ lying around?"

"Something like that," Daniel said, extricating his arms from the spaghetti of wiring behind the twenty-inch flatscreen and unkinking his legs and spine enough to straighten.

Jack came up behind him and wrapped arms around before he could turn. "You realize that this doesn't make any sense."

Daniel leaned into him and hugged the arms tighter by way of hello. "What doesn't make any sense?"

"Trying to flip this kink around like that. I'd rather watch you than anything else in the world. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"And you know we could throw away all the toys and all the videos and I'd still never get tired of you."

"I know." Daniel pivoted in the circle of Jack's arms, bending his upper body so that his shirt wouldn't catch on all the stuff pinned to Jack's chest. The new space-and-missile badge was a deadly weapon. "And you know it's mutual."

"I know," Jack said, shifting his arms up around Daniel's shoulders as Daniel's hands slid down and around to cup his ass. "Which is why this doesn't make any sense."

Daniel pressed a long, soft kiss to Jack's lips, moaning a little when Jack unexpectedly opened up and gave him some tongue, then pulled back with a smile because if the kiss got any deeper they wouldn't be leaving this room for a while. "But you'll watch it anyway."

"I'll watch it anyway," Jack said, and stepped back to unbutton his jacket. "After we eat that spread of food you took all the trouble to ... spread."

"And drink the wine I imported all the way from the corner store and set out to breathe," Daniel said, unclipping Jack's tie for him while he shouldered out of the jacket.

"And eat the cake," Jack said.

"Did you see a cake?"

"I know there's cake. There is _so_ going to be cake."

Actually it was pie, because Daniel figured they'd had cake for him at work, but it was Jack's favorite pie from the really inconveniently located pie place, and Jack was too full of antipasto and frutti di mare that Daniel had wangled as take-out from the eat-in-only Italian place and too pleasantly buzzed on outstanding pinot noir from the high-class wineshop down the street and way too savvy to prompt Daniel about it when they finished eating, so it wasn't difficult to lure him back into the bedroom after dinner, and it was never difficult to get him stripped down and comfortably settled against a pile of extra pillows. It was only difficult to resist the temptation to get him as worked up as possible in the process.

"I don't have a remote for the notebook," Daniel said, starting the movie, "so I'm just gonna let this run, OK?" He got into the bed -- naked, and moving slowly in the light from the screen, because Jack did like to watch him -- and put the TV remote between the pillows. "If you hate it, mute it, or flip off the set."

"Okeydoke," Jack said agreeably, and opened an arm for Daniel to tuck in.

Daniel didn't need to watch the clip; he'd seen it a dozen times in various stages of production and run the finished version twice. He watched Jack -- watched Jack's attention visibly split between what he wanted to look at (the gooseflesh he was raising on Daniel's nape with the light scratch of his fingernails, the slide of Daniel's thigh over his, the expectant swell of Daniel's erection) and the TV Daniel wanted him to look at, then slowly shift to stay on the screen. There was no music; the score was the susurrus of bodies sliding against good sheets, the quiet murmur of query-and-response and instruction-and-acknowledgment, low throaty unfaked sounds of pleasure, gentle shared chuckles at moments of awkwardness and sighs of satisfied relief as the position came right, soft wet sucking, the thud of a heel or slap of a hand onto the mattress when climax peaked. Daniel stroked Jack's penis in long, light pulls, enjoying the feel of it coming up stiff and taut; he laid his head on Jack's shoulder and ran his hand lower, gauging Jack's response from the tightness of his balls and the changes in his breathing. He knew when the moment he was especially waiting for came -- when the thus-far-dominant partner stroked an absent, gentle caress down the other's abs, combed her fingers up through the soft dark hair between her partner's thighs, then rolled onto her back -- because Jack's heartrate doubled and his erection went hard enough to rise off his belly.

"_God_," Jack whispered sharply, and then said _I am so fucking turned on_ with a long, low groan.

Daniel smiled into his skin but didn't break Jack's absorption by replying. He gently fondled Jack's balls, and when Jack spread his legs he ran his fingers lightly up the insides of Jack's thighs, stroking into the crease of groin on each sweep, one side and then the other. Jack shivered with pleasure and spread wider, and it was all Daniel could do not to hump his leg. His cock cried out for friction; his whole groin throbbed in response to Jack's arousal. He hadn't meant this to be for him -- he truly had meant it to be for Jack, not because he needed it or had been missing out on anything but because he would enjoy it, pure and simple -- but he really got, now, what Jack got out of watching him while he watched the things that got him hot, and feeling him while he watched the things that got him off.

Although it was rapid, Jack's breathing was so quiet that through the TV speakers Daniel could hear the soft _tch_ of labia parting, and it oriented him again to which part of the scene was showing; lost in Jack's arousal, he'd lost track. There was no kissing on the mouth (in this part, anyway; there was at the very end, but Jack wouldn't find that out for a while and it was going to go right through him when it happened), but the kisses the now-top partner was slowly, softly dropping on the tender flesh the on-her-back partner had spread her lips to expose were the part of this that got Daniel going, and his own heartbeat sped up when a tremor went through Jack. A contraction of abs signaled the first long, wet lick from perineum to clit, and when the woman set to sucking with an audible _mrmf_ of relish, Jack let out something between a pained grunt and a whine.

At last, all this time later, in their own bed, his body was thrumming again.

The women didn't moan and groan dramatically or keep up a repetitive drone of coarse talk or plaster open-mouthed, lax-lipped, unchanging simulations of passion on their faces; they watched each other with keen attention, as though assessing or logging technique and response. It made every twitch of appreciative smile as effective as an outcry, and Daniel knew when the one on her belly thrust in with her tongue and the one on her back winced in pleasure and dropped her head with a silent gasp, because Jack's dick jerked without being touched.

Daniel didn't want to make Jack self-conscious or distract him, but he was planning to move anyway and he wanted one good look before he changed perspective, so he lifted his head back to the pillow, and Jack's attention didn't even flicker. His face was expressionless -- it always was when he watched something that intensely interested him, as though the absence of focus on himself activated an automatic emotion-masking device -- but his eyes were dark and his lips were parted. In profile, his face was painfully handsome, and the deepening shadow-patterns the screenglow cast across it told Daniel that the view had switched back to the handheld camera, for more fluid, close-up work at tricky angles.

Pushing off his elbow, Daniel lowered his head again and moved down Jack's body. At this point in the scene the handheld camera had its own thrust and muscularity, its own motives and interests and kinks -- it became another body, another player in the bed -- and it deliberately, consciously brought the other cameras into its field of view, the tripod-mounted units that were set to record and left stationary. The handheld knew how to move in and out of their respective ranges so that it would never appear in the edited footage but editing it out never created a jerky transition. The handheld was all stealth and intimacy, and the intimation of other watchers -- of watchers watching the watcher. Daniel knew that Jack would pick up on that, subliminally or consciously enough to take pleasure in. This show was, completely, for him. He was the watcher, and they all knew he was there.

Daniel took the ripe, swollen head of Jack's cock into his mouth, and gently sucked.

"Daniel," Jack said, hoarse and soft, burying his hand in Daniel's hair. "Close. Really close, baby."

Daniel responded by relaxing the whole weight of his head onto Jack's belly, and continued to suck in expectant patience, cupping Jack's balls with his free hand.

From the TV came a series of chesty grunts, in half-a-beat-off syncopation to the sucking rhythm of rocking fingers and the wet pop of lips rhythmically sucking and pulling off, and then a guttural groan of orgasm that was nothing like the breathy squeal an actor would have produced. Jack's fingers curled against Daniel's skull, and his cock burst sweetly in Daniel's mouth. Daniel sucked in hard pulls between swallows, caught a breath when the first wave passed, and then sucked unrelentingly hard to fill his mouth with the last thick drops, savoring Jack's harsh moans. He eased off only when the hand in his hair gave the too-much rub, and kept the cockhead in his mouth, running his tongue around it, caressing and soothing. He kept his eyes closed for a long time, listening to the hitches in Jack's breathing, supporting Jack's softening balls in his palm. For a little while, he'd forgotten the movie completely. When he opened his eyes, the screen showed his notebook's generic wallpaper and a scattering of icons. The media player had collapsed to a thin blue bar when the clip ended.

Jack stroked his head for a while, then reached down with his other hand and gently slid his soft dick from Daniel's mouth. He rubbed it a little, then let it drape over Daniel's hand and said, "Come up."

Daniel went up for a deep, extended kiss, losing himself in the spent softness of Jack's mouth and the savoring slide of Jack's tongue through the coating of semen in his. When it ended, finally, reluctantly, Jack murmured against his lips, "What do you want?"

"Nothing right now," he said, snugging his head into the pillow and closing his eyes again, running a reassuring hand over Jack's chest. "Later."

"Liar," Jack said, and put a hand on his face. "Tell me."

Daniel opened his eyes. "I want to fuck you, very slow and very deep, for the approximately three minutes it will probably take for me to come."

"Oddly enough, that's exactly what I want," Jack said, and reached for the remote to turn off the TV. "Get the bottle."

Daniel managed to eke out a full five minutes before he came into Jack, in a deep, balls-clenching spasm, with pillows flung all around them in the big bed and the covers rucked up and Jack on his face groaning into the mattress. Afterspasms ran through Jack's ass, he was still that turned on and that sensitive and he loved Daniel's cock that much. They lay there for a long time before they tried to move, and then got a couple of pillows back where they belonged at the head of the bed, and got themselves unstuck and flipped over and repositioned, side by side with Daniel on the outside this time.

"So that was for real," Jack said, after a long, easy silence.

"That was for real," Daniel said.

"It was made to _be_ real, not just to _look_ real."

"That was the idea."

"But those weren't real ... lovers in real life. They were sex workers. And that was the first time they did it with each other."

Daniel nodded. "Experienced escorts who hadn't had sex with each other before this first segment was shot."

"First?"

"There are three more scenes," Daniel said. "Whole thing's about an hour and twenty minutes. The next scene is the next part of this one, with some rimming and more fingers and ... well, you'll see if you want to. The last two were shot on two other days. Scene Three's got a double-ended dildo and vibrating gloves, Scene Four's the strap-on. Scene Three's my favorite because mostly they sit up face-to-face sharing the dildo and making each other come over and over again, it was kind of a competition and they laughed a lot and had fun with it, but I think you'll really like Scene Four."

"Because they get really into it."

"Because they got a lot more into it than they expected to, and because no matter how rough it gets, nobody's doing anything they're not enjoying. For real." He hesitated, because he'd debated telling Jack this, but he'd decided to and now he decided to go ahead: "I was there for that part, because I wanted to be sure. So I'm sure." He hoped that any subliminal awareness of his presence would add to it, for Jack, if Jack decided to watch it, and not bring it too close to home for it to be enjoyable anymore.

It went without saying that he hadn't participated, but he gave Jack a space of silence in which to ask him to say it anyway, if he needed to. Jack didn't say anything, but lay quietly thinking for a while before he spoke again. Then he said, "You know, I've made friends with a few sex workers over the years. Different times, different countries, but one thing was always the same: they were as secretive about their identity as I was about mine."

_And as hinky about being photographed as you are._ Daniel nodded again.

"So these women must have been ... extraordinarily trusting, to do this for you."

"Or extraordinarily well compensated," Daniel said. "You're always telling me I should do something with all this money the Air Force pays me and I have no time or inclination to spend."

"I was talking about _mutual funds_."

"Found something I had more interest in investing in."

Jack shook his head, as if to say _Your insanity never ceases to amaze me_ and _I'll never understand what you see in me_ at the same time, but he was obviously pleased by the lengths Daniel had gone to. And still puzzled, and still thinking like a covert operative, because he said, "Self-preservation trumps the financial incentive unless you paid them enough to retire offshore. That's no home movie, and I didn't see a statement of code compliance on it."

"Remember that Denver escort service you used to use?"

"That what escort service?" Jack said, uninterested in the apparent digression but prompting for the word he hadn't caught because he'd never used _any_ escort service and so he couldn't fill in the blank -- his delivery so absolutely, rock-solid believable that anyone else would have bought it.

"That escort service whose business card mysteriously appeared in my wallet toward the end of the third year."

There was a noticeable pause, which meant that Jack had already decided to stop pretending to ignorance and was calculating how to respond. "Oh that one," he said at last, with a rote flatness; and then, turning gruff, "You know, there were reasons I didn't tell you that came from me."

"I know," Daniel said gently. "And there were reasons I didn't tell you I called them up to see if they provided male escorts for men, either, or that I never had the heart to go for it when they said they did. The point is that I knew it came from you and I figured it was a reasonably reliable, discreet place to start. I contacted them a couple of months ago and got a referral to their L.A. affiliate. Set up some 'dates' that I used to make inquiries, and found someone working her way through film school. She chose the participants. It took longer to get her on board than the two colleagues she introduced me to, because she knew that her work might be developing a signature feel, and she worried that in the future this might be used to connect her to her previous employer. But you're right -- they were all wary."

"And you charmed them into it," Jack said -- without an ounce of sarcasm or skepticism.

"That's ... flattering," Daniel said, actually a bit surprised and moved, "but no, not as far as I'm aware. I just explained the bare bones of the situation and presented the offer, straight up. I don't know what criteria they used to assess my trustworthiness, but they decided that the benefits outweighed the risks. And that's all I'm going to tell you, because if they become real people to you, the kink might go out of it."

Jack emitted a pensive rumble that said _Maybe not so much, in this case,_ but he didn't commit to saying it aloud.

Daniel didn't say aloud that the escorts had offered to entertain both him and the recipient in person -- separately or in any combination; standard rates would apply but they weren't in the habit of propositioning clients, so take the compliment -- and that Daniel had thanked them but regretfully declined. Jack gave imagination free rein but was fiercely monogamous, and what would be a fantasy-come-to-life for some other guy wouldn't work for him even if it didn't threaten his anonymity. But Daniel _had_ been regretful, because he'd thought Jack would like them. A lot. Now he wondered if Jack didn't already like them, from what had come across to him on the screen -- if that wasn't a big part of what had made this work for him when almost nothing else did. Jack had no preferences where superficial things like size or build or pigmentation were concerned, but he did have a type -- smart, competent, risk-taking, good-humored, tough -- and they were it. He wondered if the terms of the project he'd commissioned had screened for that type by definition, or if it was a lucky accident, or if the filmmaker had known, somehow -- evaluated him in some way that told her what his partner would respond to. He might not ever find out, but if he did, and it was her, he'd have to thank her. And ask her what it was that she saw.

"Anyway ... happy birthday, Jack."

"Why, thank you, Daniel." Jack's mouth was curving deliciously in his attempt to keep his gratitude low-key. "This is an extremely thoughtful gift."

"Scenes Two through Four whenever you're up for them," Daniel said.

"I don't know if I can handle more than twenty minutes of that in a night."

"It's still your birthday for a few more hours."

"OK," Jack said, meaning _try telling my plumbing that_, "but first ... ?" -- still not pushing, but obviously and pathetically hopeful now.

Daniel elbowed up and kissed him softly on the corner of the mouth. "But first, pie. I'll bring it in to you."

Jack settled back happily, arms behind his head, and Daniel rolled to his feet and headed for the bedroom door -- not pulling on shorts, because the birthday package absolutely included naked guy bringing you pie in bed. But he paused in the doorway -- artfully silhouetted, he thought with a smile, against the light from down the hall -- and said, "The filmmaker's available, by the way, any time you want her to shoot us."

Without missing a beat, Jack said, "Not showing the faces -- that'd be a neat trick. Especially during the blowjobs."

"But think how the challenge would help her grow as an artist," Daniel replied, envisioning a side-on shot of a hipbone and the base of a cock, with lips descending rhythmically into the frame, the suggestion of bobbing head more erotic than the full-screen view. _And something you're hinky about could be an even more intense turn-on than this is. And there's always another birthday, good lord willin' and the crick don't rise._

He padded out to the kitchen. As he pulled the pie out of hiding, he heard Jack call, "You think July'll work for her?"


End file.
